Re: Badgerjelly's Poems

Look at you, my elegant friend like a haphazard tattoo scrawled upon my skin. With vampiric proboscis you nose against me; not insistant, nor for attention. I like that you bother me with small irritation. Giving to you life for a mere speck of suffer.

I awake in the morn and feel a tickle instinct makes my hand slap my thigh, and there you are in a sorry state splattered like red ink upon my leg. I am sorry, dear friend it is natural, not intentional.

Re: Badgerjelly's Poems

With vigor, with zest, with zeal it is to you I appeal: shake off those cluttered thoughts, blow the dust you wear away it is no cloth of esteem merely a habit with no seam. Shout out, "Be gone dogma!" Dance with free gaited delight step here, step there, care like never before with vigor, with zest, with zeal.

Re: Badgerjelly's Poems

The vernacular is spectacular in its lexical motions the cogs spin and teeth grind masticating meaning. The colloquial is filial to the parental parse, technical and artful; a mouthful! Jarring forms of jargon rub up against each other confused daimons escape the genie lamps of our minds. Pharaohs shudder as glyphs turn muddier, Socrates sips hemlock to beckon the flock, Odin cajoles Bragi to be his lyrical lackey; to Gods we're blinded, binded and mummified not dumb, but spouting ignorance a cataracts to pall our eyes - hope envisioned within a rainbow. What shall we wish for? For what shall we wish?

Re: Badgerjelly's Poems

The night falls with snow sheet casts a black and white Noir Femme Fatal has slit the days throat all the colour has bled away. Bogey sits, stern face hardboiled, eyes like a falcon upon the she devil; not succumbing to her molten tease unfixen by her vixen glances. He thinks of Sam's panache and flair looks on as she advances He's seen the scene played out again and again. When the curtain falls; again when the audience have shuffled out; again there is no doubt in their minds that they've seen colours in the darkness beyond the silvery glow of Noir hidden in the secret shadow-play of sleuth the whole theatre was vibrant rich with the colour of human emotion; ripe prey for the Femme Fatal play it again, play it again and again ...